


No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.

by WhisperingAFantasy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25486636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingAFantasy/pseuds/WhisperingAFantasy
Summary: Inspired by HMS Harmony Wacky Wednesday AU Theme of the week - Hades & Persephone.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger
Comments: 13
Kudos: 62
Collections: HMS Harmony Discord Drabbles





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Hal Borland’s quote - “ No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.”

Chapter one - The Onset of Winter

July 21, 1997. 

He watches as his daughter rushes forward and the way her face lights up, as she engulfs the lanky boy standing awkwardly in his doorway. He’s flanked by an older looking man with a peg-leg and an eerie looking artificial eye, another man with disheveled brown hair with scars on his face and a woman with the brightest pink hair he has seen in all his life standing behind him. 

The boy is tall, wears glasses and to his eye looks ordinary. His eyes land on his jet black hair which is a mess, much like Hermione’s was, until she discovered something in that magical world of hers, he thinks with bemusement, only that thought; of his daughter being away from him, of being part of another world wiped away the hilarity he had found in the idea that his daughter had to find a boy with hair as unruly as her own to fall in love with.

His daughter is now a part of a different world. 

A world at war. 

And his heart breaks at the thought. 

His little girl, his baby, was so in love with this boy that she was following him into a war. Granted, he knows that the boy isn’t responsible for what lays ahead or what’s already happened but he doesn’t know how not to blame him. 

He has argued, pleaded and emotionally blackmailed Hermione to not do this, and has never regretted it more that she’s just as adamant as he is, that off all the traits he had to pass on, it was that one that she inherited. 

He watches, as his heart breaks, how his little girl beams at the boy who leans to capture her lips and his vision blurs as tears well in his eyes, tears he refuses to let that boy see and looks away before anyone can watch him wiping away his tears. He watches Hermione hold his face in her hands and the two whisper words he can’t hear but he doesn’t have to overhear them to know what they must be about. He knows he has raised a brilliant, compassionate and loving young woman and it breaks his heart that now she no longer looks at him like he’s her hero, her champion.

His eyes linger on Harry Potter, as he holds Hermione in his arms, his eyes never leaving her face as he answers her questions and the tender way he looks at her, the adoration that overflows in the way her hands trace his arms and shoulders.

He doesn’t like this boy who has become his daughter’s hero. 

He knows that a whole lot of people might look at him and see their saviour, their champion; but as he looks at the boy dressed all in black, his eyes don’t see the lad as just a teenage boy who is triggering him the way teenage boys across the world trigger their girlfriend’s fathers but as something else, someone else. He can’t even explain it to himself but his eyes see this boy and his mind conjures up an image of him, dressed as a dark figure cloaked in black, a phantom crown over his head and a two-pronged pitchfork in one of his hands, even as he smiles at his daughter. 

They turn to look at him as he stands, unable to move, as his daughter bids him farewell. He can’t speak, he can’t move and the man with the fake leg growls to get a move on. He can only plead with his eyes that his daughter stay back, stay home but he won’t create a scene in front of these strangers, even as his heart breaks knowing that his daughter has picked this boy over her parents. He understands her motives, her reasons for wanting to fight this war; but he can’t help but be a father who wants to protect his daughter. 

Hermione once looked up to him knowing he’d keep her safe, protect her - today he doesn’t know how to protect her from herself, from the love that she has found in this boy, who’s surrounded by death and will be bathed in blood if he wants to survive what’s ahead of him. 

He wants to admire his daughter for her convictions and courage. He wants to wrap her up and run away from this madness to keep her safe.  


The little band accompanying the boy steps close to the two youngsters as his daughter awaits his response, but he’s unable to make one. He can see the look of disappointment cross her face for an instant before it turns to one of resolve and determination. 

He watches as she meets his eye and looks behind him and mouths, *I’ll see you two soon, I promise*. 

He watches Hermione reaching out to touch a weird little statue of a three headed black dog of all things, as the little motley crew gathers round it, the man with the fake leg mutters *Hecate* and the group disappears in front of him. 

David Granger finds his legs going weak, only for his wife to hold him before he crumbles in on himself.

As Jane’s arms gather him, he can’t help but think of all the times when he used to read to Hermione, as she’d demand a different story each time and how he’d once picked up a book about Greek myths and legends to read to her. Hermione had always been fascinated by the tales of gods and goddesses, Titans, fantastical creatures and monsters. Today he can’t help but recall the night he had read the story of Hades and Persephone to Hermione and though this boy, this Harry, hasn’t kidnapped his daughter the way Hades had kidnapped Persephone, he can’t help but think how today he understands just how heartbroken and helpless Demeter must have felt each time she had to watch Persephone walk away from her.

* * *


	2. Spring

Chapter two - Spring 

May 5, 1998.

He drives around aimlessly, his mind abound with memories and thoughts that plague and torment him with every breath.

It’s been 9 months and 15 days since he last saw her. Last heard from her. And even longer since he held her. 

Hermione. 

His little girl. His daughter. His sunshine. 

He’s tried to keep it together but it’s hard, oh so hard when you know a piece of your heart, a piece of your very soul has walked away from you, it’s even harder when you don’t know if you’ll ever get it back. 

He has never felt an ache like this in all his life and he feels awful and monstrous for even thinking momentarily if it would have been better if Jane had never got pregnant at all. A part of him thinks he might have escaped this pain, that hurts worse than anything else he’s ever known or felt in all his life and then he watches a little girl, clutching her daddy’s hand as she takes a seat in front of him; scared of him and all his instruments and his heart aches for Hermione all over again. 

He remembers the years Jane and he had experienced a different kind of ache, when they had tried and tried to have a child but kept failing. Jane had had 4 miscarriages and they had to let go of their dream of ever bringing a new life into this world, a reminder of their love, a piece of him and her.

He hadn’t had the heart to want to ask Jane if they should adopt after her last miscarriage, for she had been so hurt and broken by their rotten luck shafting them. He had decided he’d dote on her and love her enough to make her forget that pain even if he knew he was destined to fail in one way or another. 

Then it had happened, Jane was 36 and he was 38; they had been on a holiday of sorts, well, they had been attending a dental convention in Seattle and weren’t even expecting anything else except a nice weekend of relaxation when Jane had been unable to keep any food down and they had cried when Jane was declared pregnant. 

Hermione, she had been their little miracle, magic in its truest form as she had arrived with loud wails and the pinkest cheeks and her rosebud mouth in September and based on the date of her birth, they had realised she had been conceived in Turkey as they had taken a holiday to celebrate Jane’s birthday and the New Year.

Once they had picked up on that fact, Jane being the history buff had her heart set on calling their daughter Helen but one of her bitchy cousins had delivered a baby girl not two weeks before Hermione was born and out of spite had named her own daughter Helen, knowing that Jane’s heart was set on that name. 

He had been the one to suggest Hermione then and they had been delighted for it was the perfect solution. His wife’s love for history and his love for literature had both been satisfied. For Hermione was Helen’s daughter and also a Shakespearen character from A Winter’s Tale. 

The moment he had held her and she had looked at him with those huge chocolate brown eyes of hers, he had known she’d become his world. He’d never love anyone more than he had loved her. 

Hermione was their pride and joy and she had become the light of their lives.  
  


It had broken their hearts to realise how lonely she was however. They couldn’t give her any siblings owing to Jane’s medical condition and weren’t sure that adopting a child would come naturally to them. Being the oldest amongst the parents of her peers had further alienated their little girl from making friends and the rest had been the result of her incessant thirst for knowledge which was despised by kids her own age even as early as kindergarten.

Hogwarts had been a godsend to them when Minerva McGonagall had come knocking at their doorstep. Hermione had managed to make a friend or two but alas, somehow some things had happened that frightened those kids away from her for good and they had been unable to understand, let alone explain the odd occurrences around their daughter especially when she was emotionally overwhelmed. 

Minerva McGonagall had answered all the questions that they had but never knew whom to ask. 

Hermione was excited for a new beginning at a new school with kids just like her and they hadn’t had the heart to deny her that chance at happiness even though it had meant sending her away from them for months at that boarding school. 

Only they didn’t know back then exactly where they were sending her. And once Hermione had started writing home letters about the joys of magic, about a weird sport played on brooms and more importantly about having friends, finally they had taken heart that they had done the right thing. Their daughter was happy and that was what mattered. 

Hermione’s letters were their source of joy and agony all at once. Initially they had been amused and tickled silly about owls arriving with letters from their daughter and had had been even bitten by one or two of them.

That had changed when a snowy white owl had become a regular and they had found the bird magnificent, well behaved, not to mention beautiful and written to Hermione about that, informing her that she had finally found the perfect and most intelligent owl. That they would be happy if she was the only owl that delivered her letters as they didn’t fancy getting bitten by random owls. He remembers Jane had even suggested that Hermione ask her head of house if it was at all possible for her to purchase this owl from the school, they were willing to pay extra.

Hermione had written back, amused and delighted to inform them that the owl belonged to her best friend Harry Potter and he’d happily lend her Hedwig whenever she wanted so there was no need for her to purchase an owl of her own. She had also mentioned that their compliments regarding Hedwig had made the owl incredibly happy who had preened herself at the praise and Harry had teased her if she was trying to steal his owl by inflating her ego. Hedwig hadn’t been amused and had nipped Harry for that comment. 

He should have known with each successive letter that Hedwig delivered after that; that boy was trouble. 

He hasn’t been eating or sleeping well since that day Hermione left and though he knows Jane is trying to keep herself together for his sake, even she is cracking under the pressure and they’re dreading the day when their worst nightmare comes true.

Nightmares, he was never one to have them - not even after he had read King or Rice or just any random author. He could fall asleep like a log as soon as he hit the bed after returning from a show of The Shining, Psycho, Rosemary’s Baby, The Exorcist or just about any horror movie or show. 

It always annoyed Jane how nothing ever scared him. Not the scariest of authors with their words or the most horrifying scenes in movies in all their technicolor glory. 

He would laugh whenever she would complain about that. It had amused his little girl, who always felt that her daddy was the strongest man ever and it had filled his heart with a joy the likes of which he wouldn’t even know how to describe.

Now he was plagued with them and all of them were about his baby girl. She who had been his greatest joy had finally become the reason why he finally found himself having nightmares. 

The one that haunted him that the most ironically wasn’t even scary. It was just him recalling the moment that Hermione had disappeared after touching the statue of that three headed black dog, and initially he hadn’t even understood why that particular memory kept haunting him - not just in his every waking moment but even in his nightmares, even if he understood on some level that it was the moment that he had seen Hermione disappear right before his very eyes. 

It had been oddly enough coming across a book he remembered reading to Hermione, the one about Greek myths and legends where the answer had found him ironically.

He had picked it up on a whim one night, about two months after Hermione had been gone to try and fall asleep when his eyes had found themselves reading the story of Hades and Persephone, ironically, where he had stumbled upon the mention of Hecate and his mind had skidded to a halt. He had forgotten how the goddess had aided Demeter in her quest to locate her only child Persephone, but it had also been the word that the peg-legged man had uttered just as Hermione had disappeared.

Hecate. 

She was the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, moon, ghosts and necromancy.

Magic and witchcraft that had taken their daughter away and he had found himself having nightmares full of ghosts and zombies hunting his daughter as she cried out for help and him running alone at night, with the moon as the only source of light, in a very familiar forest, one where he remembers going on a vacation with Hermione - the Forest of Dean. 

Hecate who helped Demeter. Hecate, who ruled over everything that had wrecked his life. The name, the word that had permanently lodged itself in his psyche.

He doesn’t even know how long he drove but he finds himself parking his car and heading towards his house when he feels something different, something is happening inside.

Jane hasn’t cooked in months but he’d be damned if he doesn’t recognise the smell of his wife’s cooking wafting through the air and his feet involuntarily speed up to get to her. To see her and hold her. It’s been long, too long since he has seen his wife smile and be happy. 

When he finally enters the kitchen, he freezes; for there standing in front of the stove is his wife being aided by the boy, as she instructs him how to cook Coq au vin, Hermione’s favourite French dish. And standing beside the boy, her arm around his waist and her chin on his shoulder as the boy stirs the pot, is his little girl. 

Hermione is the first one to notice him as her eyes widen and he finds Jane looking at him, a wide smile on her face; peace finally in her eyes and before he knows it, David Granger is engulfed by his daughter’s arms as she burrows into him and utters the sweetest words he has heard in all his life. Words that slay his demons as he tightens his hold around her even as tears overflow his eyes and his heart explodes in his chest, so much so that he fears that he may die from the sheer shock and joy but at least with the knowledge that his precious heart is safe and he’d be in her arms if this is his last moment on earth.

“I missed you daddy.”


End file.
